


Cover

by Beth Harker (Beth_Harker)



Category: Newsies (1992)
Genre: Gen, platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 06:31:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17218751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beth_Harker/pseuds/Beth%20Harker
Summary: Spot covers his scars.





	Cover

The thermometers said it was a hundred degrees outside, but that was bullshit. It was hotter than the fires of hell, and everybody knew it. Spot Conlon had used it as an excuse to invite some of the Manhattan newsies over to his side of the river, for swimming, cards, and the always looming possibility of slingshot combat.

It was fun, but Racetrack Higgins swam with all the finesse of a two ton rock, and he’d seen enough boys get pushed into the river that he wasn’t going to so much as risk putting his feet in the water. He’d bother Spot instead. He’d known the kid long enough to earn the right to be a nuisance. Hell, it made him nostalgic for the days when he’d lived in Brooklyn, and had to put up with Spot nearly everyday. Spot had been a lot smaller back then, which was really saying something.

“How’s it feel to be the benevolent king, presiding over the rest of us peasants?” Race asked. He spoke quietly, forming the words around his ever present cigar.

“Ain’t half bad,” Spot answered. “Show some gratitude, why don’t ya? You’d be stuck sweating buckets in Manhattan right now if not for me.”

“Right, ‘cause there’s no water in Manhattan. Scientists in Brooklyn invented water during the bronze era, and we ain’t figured out the concept yet on our side of the bridge.”

“Didn’t take you for an expert in ancient history.”

“I know more than you, and don’t you forget it.”

Surprisingly, Spot didn’t argue. He took off his cap, and fanned himself with it. The air felt thick and soupy; Spot’s hair was sticky with sweat.

“Not gonna go swimming?” Race asked. He was even quieter now, treading carefully.

“You know I’m not.”

Racetrack nodded. He knew why, too. There was a big scar across Spot’s belly, from when another boy had tried to stab him. Race had been fourteen at the time, and Spot only seven, but already full of fight and ambition. Race had gone for the doctor at the instructions of Spot’s sister Maggie, and come back to the find the girl simultaneously cursing Spot out, and threatening to kill him if he didn’t recover quick. That was how the Conlons showed love.

“Why do you cover it?” Race asked, as casual as he could with Spot looking like he might soak him at any moment. “Happened so long ago, that it could be anything. Build your reputation. Say you got it fighting dragons. Someone 'round here’ll be dumb enough to believe it.”

“Not a bad thought.” Spot got a sudden, wicked grin. “Hey, I’ll go in swimming if you do. You ready?”

“Snowball’s chance in hell.”

Spot nodded, satisfied. “That’s what I thought.”


End file.
